


After

by testedcyberneticz



Category: Animator vs. Animation (Short Film 2006)
Genre: ? - Freeform, Post-Canon, my god these stickmen have issues, not sure how to tag, post part 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:20:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27752950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/testedcyberneticz/pseuds/testedcyberneticz
Summary: The Chosen One was very sure the Dark Lord wasn't dead. They were made to survive.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	After

The air smelt burnt. Parts of the ground were destroyed, and he could feel the adrenaline leaving him and remind him harshly of his wounds. He would stay standing of course, he was the Chosen One for a reason, but... This felt wrong. Maybe it was because the animator had actually helped him, or because of how the group of other stickmen reacted to his existence, but it was what it was. He stared for a long time, too. Even when the mouse cursor was long gone, even when he just barely noticed the Second Coming look down at him one last time. If he was being honest, he didn't like how much the Second Coming looked like him. Which was a stupid sentence considering they were stickmen, but, well, it was done with a distinct style. It always was. 

When he finally ripped his face away from the sky, it immediately went across the newly made trench across the field. It had been done with something like that of inexperience, and it almost stressed him. But what mattered more was the person on the receiving end of it. The Chosen One was very sure the Dark Lord wasn't dead. They were made to survive. 

Though, he wouldn't ever truly admit it, he just didnt want him to be dead. Their escape from the first computer had been freeing, the two of them destroying so many websites was invigorating. But at one point, it had been best to just... Settle down. To not think about the past too much. It was freeing, even. Maybe they could have a chance at a normal life without constant fighting or destruction. Not completely though, they still had sparred and the such. It was totally impossible to just say that it wasn't fun. But when they were destroying things left and right, well... They eventually ran out. Big name websites quickly built themselves back up again. It became a loop of boredom. It made both of them realize that their lives had been a fight from the start, and maybe, just maybe, they deserved to see what it was like _without_ one. 

The Chosen One let flames lick his hands and boosted himself into the air, overlooking the biggest crater of all. It was impossible to see anything in it because of how far away he was, but judging by his memory of the giant mushroom cloud explosion, the Dark Lord was definitely there. 

Which reminded him of how bad the Dark Lord was at letting go. It came in small parts, he had noticed. But in situations like this... No. It was too far. This all had been too far. A virus like that would've devastated things in a whole new way, a way that wasn't _their_ way of it. And seeing the coordinates be the animator's house had been even worse. It was a sign of too many things at once and had been overwhelming. He didn't want to remember that, but here he was. And here he was flying over to the person that had just tried to murder him. But then again, he had been going in for the kill too. That was a problem between them, they didn't know how to wound. It was either dying or going in for the kill. Communication when one of them was panicking was also something that didn't happen. 

Which wasn't to say they didn't care about eachother. It was impossible not to care about eachother. Completely and entirely so. 

And now, at this point, he was landing just above the edge of the crater. Everything smelt even more burnt here, and he had to force himself to look down. Thankfully, a puddle of a stickman hadn't formed. Unfortunately, he genuinely couldn't tell if the Dark Lord was even breathing. He looked like absolute garbage. The both of them had been out and about enough among other stickmen to let him know that a stickman wasn't supposed to usually be able to develop bruises or cuts. Unless it was, y'know, really, _really,_ bad. Or funny. But none of this was, so he slid down the dirt of the crater and right up to the person before him.

The Dark Lord didn't respond to any action, but he looked like he was knocked out cold. Before doing anything, the Chosen One pulled off and threw the bracelets from the Lord's wrist. Then, he put his head up to the Lord's chest and listened, the sound being faint but there. He appreciated but also hated the amount of relief that gave him. Without thinking, one hand was on his back and the other under his legs, the Dark Lord's head finally choosing to rest against his chest. In that moment he looked so... Friendly. Like he hadn't just tried to eviscerate so _much_. It was as if the world was trying to remind him that for just only his first seconds in life, he hadn't been trying to destroy something.

Getting out of the crater while holding a half dead person was difficult, but not impossible. He was also aware that he'd have to walk instead of fly back to their house, lest he risk killing the Dark Lord for good. There was no computer files here to bring either of them back. It was this, or nothing. So he walked, one step at a time while his own body screamed at him. 

When the Chosen One had traveled half the distance, he felt movement. It was small and near unfeelable, but it was there. He looked down and saw the Dark Lord's head slowly turn to his, as if on the chance he moved it faster it would snap off. It was almost like a staring contest. He nearly had to wonder if the Lord had simply fallen back asleep immediately with how long nothing happened. 

Then, the Dark Lord raised his arm slowly and pulled it back into a fist. When he launched his fist at the Chosen One, it landed dejectedly and pitifully. If he didn't know any better, he would've thought he had merely been randomly patting him. The weakly put together fist slid down his chest messily. And then he tried to do the same thing again, as if it had a chance of working somehow if he simply just did it again. The Chosen One decided to shoot him a look and stare long and hard. He made sure the message was clear; It's over. Neither of them won. Neither were ever meant ro win this. It. Was. Finished. Over. No more. 

The Dark Lord seemed to understand this, because with what seemed like the last of his energy, he curled in on himself as best as he could. The world felt tiny and made of glass, and his hands felt ready to slip off of everything all at once. For a few seconds, the Lord's shoulders hitched up and down unevenly, then completely dropped down as a grand finale to him fainting once again. The Chosen One himself almost wished he could do that right now, really. He was tired, no, exhausted. Several parts of his world had just cone crashing down in so little time.

Maybe because this world was meant keeping. That's why it could break so easy, he guessed. 


End file.
